


Take A Bow

by spacemonkey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 23:16:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2891750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemonkey/pseuds/spacemonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer casts a spell on Castiel, leaving him unconscious and quickly losing his mind. Dean steps in - literally. Written in between Seasons 4 and 5</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take A Bow

**Author's Note:**

> This was written not long before Season 5 premiered, for a prompt.

He stood there, looking at the mirror and wondering why and how and exactly who.   
  
  
He felt lost. He felt lonely, and Blue Eyes joined him in the reflection then, apparently having changed his mind, shoulders brushing lightly, and he felt safe.  
  
  
“You look familiar,” Blue Eyes said, his reflection almost mouthing the words along correctly. “Who are you?”

  
He shrugged. “I think we’ve been here before though.” He paused. “I think, I think I should be doing something.”  
  
  
Blue Eyes squinted at his reflection. “What?” he asked.  
  
  
He shrugged again, and Blue Eyes turned from the mirror to look at him straight on. “Until you think of it, perhaps you should stay?”  
  
  
He nodded. It sounded like the best idea he’d heard in a long time. He looked at Blue Eyes and he had to grin.  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Eighteen hours earlier, Dean had found himself watching Cas and Lucifer engage in what could only be called their very first macho pissing contest. First in a few thousand years, anyway, Three weeks since Lucifer had risen, two devastating earthquakes and one pandemic later, and Castiel had missed most of it with the archangels still on his ass, popping in and out when he could, but not staying for long.  
  
  
But three weeks later, he’d showed up just when Dean was sure him and Sam were both royally screwed,  _as usual_  - this time in the middle of the communal kitchen of an abandoned office building no less - and had met with his brother for the first time in eons.  
  
  
It had almost been cordial, at first. No name calling, mostly just glowering and throwing around words like “lay you to waste” as only angels could. Sam had looked at Dean, pulled at his jacket and nodded his head towards the door, but after all this time, Dean just couldn’t turn and run when Castiel was involved.  
  
  
They stayed. Watched as Cas and Lucifer took steps closer to one another, Castiel occasionally shooting a quick glance their way like he was expecting them to disappear, and Dean felt useless standing behind the upturned table.  
  
  
Lucifer noticed. With a smile, he followed Castiel’s glance and shook his head. “He’s so concerned with you, Dean.”  
  
  
“Enough,” Castiel said, and it was right there, that things went from almost cordial to dangerous. It figured that Dean would be the one to start it. He’d done that a lot lately.  
  
  
“You don’t enjoy me speaking to him?” Lucifer said it light, shrugging like the whole thing was just a game, and it probably was to him, some sick, twisted game with rules that only he got.

  
“It is not your right.”  
  
  
Lucifer laughed. “He is destined to destroy me, Castiel. I figure it to be my right.”  
  
  
Castiel said something that Dean didn’t recognize, but it was something bad, and Lucifer’s face darkened considerably. He said something back, hissing it through his teeth, and they were face to face then, glaring at each other and Dean wasn’t at all surprised when the windows started to shake. He took an involuntary step back anyway, his foot nudging a body that had completely bled out, and Dean was more worried that he was going to be tracking bloody footsteps everywhere then he was about the dead person.  
  
  
“You believe you can protect him?” Lucifer asked.  
  
  
“I pray.” It was said softly, but with so much conviction that it left Dean feeling completely uncomfortable. He hated it; hated the way Castiel spoke of him sometimes, like he really was righteous.  
  
  
Lucifer smiled again, twisted and leaned in so closely to Castiel’s face that Dean was sure he was going to kiss him. “But you cannot harm me, Castiel.” He cocked his head to the side, lips still dangerously close – Castiel, to his credit, didn’t move back an inch, but then he’d never been one for personal space – and added, “You will fail.”  
  
  
“Then I will make sure my last moments on this Earth will be worth it,” Castiel said coolly, and Lucifer kissed him then, actually fucking kissed him, and Dean couldn’t help the hitch in his breath that came from it.  
  
  
It was rough; Lucifer’s hand gripping the back of Castiel’s head lightning fast, fingers pulling and ripping at hair, and Castiel couldn’t seem to pull away, as much as he was trying. It was rough, and it was long, and Dean stepped forward to do something,  _anything_ , a sinking feeling in his stomach that felt a lot like dread, and a bit like something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it was  _wrong_.  
  
  
Sam grabbed his arm, pulled him back – which was probably the smart thing to do , with Dean close to barreling through a table to get to the  _Devil_  - and they both watched as Lucifer released Castiel with a loud smack of the lips that was almost comical. Lucifer smirked at the look on Castiel’s face.  
  
  
“Go your hardest,” Lucifer said, and he was gone in an instant, leaving Cas looking lost.  
  
  
Dean didn’t waste any time; he was at Castiel’s side in a second, around the table and grabbing at his arm, calling his name. “You okay?” he asked, as if Lucifer had shanked him instead of going for some harmless lip on lip action. Even if it hadn’t been harmless. It had been wrong, and Dean thought more than ever that Lucifer should go die in a hole somewhere. Dean took a breath to settle down, and Cas just shook his head.  
  
  
“I’m fine,” he said, sounding more than a little surprised. Dean couldn’t blame him.  
  
  
Sam appeared at Dean’s side, casting him a look that could only mean one thing, and he said, “We should go.”  
  
  
“Best damn idea I’ve heard all day.” He looked at Cas, waiting for a response, and was relieved when it came quickly.  
  
  
Castiel nodded. “You should go somewhere protected, at least for now.”  
  
  
“And you’ll be coming with us.”  
  
  
“Dean-”  
  
  
Dean didn’t let Cas finish, just started for the door, knowing that Sam would follow, and hoping Cas would do the same. He grinned when he heard two sets of footsteps behind him, and made his way down the hallway, trying to remember the way out of the damn building, and trying not to pay attention to the bodies on the ground. Ruby’s knife was still handy, at least, even if she had turned out to be a lying bitch.  
  
  
They made it as far as the lobby before Castiel collapsed, taking out a desk on his way down.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Bobby didn’t have an answer either, but he had his panic room, which means he’d done more than his part already. Sam put Castiel down on the bed, a bit harder then Dean appreciated, and he called him on it.  
  
  
“He’s heavy,” was Sam’s response.  
  
  
“He’s an angel,” Dean snapped back, knowing it didn’t make a lick of sense and not exactly caring. But he’d carried Cas half out the building and to the car and nearly done his back in the process, so he knew how heavy the guy was. He also knew that he was a lot heavier than a man of Jimmy’s size should have been, so maybe being an angel did have something to do with the whole thing, which Dean took to mean that he wasn’t talking completely out of his ass.  
  
  
Sam stretched ungracefully, his body popping back into place and muttered, “Man.”  
  
  
Dean ignored him, ignored Bobby too, who was pawing through some books in the corner, and went about rearranging Castiel on the bed. Angel or no, he still deserved to be comfortable. Even if he wasn’t awake to know about it. “He doesn’t sleep,” Dean mused. “And I’ve never seen him get knocked out.”  
  
  
“He was unconscious when Jimmy took back over,” Sam pointed out, and Dean shook his head. “Maybe-”  
  
  
“He’s still in here, Sammy. Jimmy felt different.”  
  
  
“Felt?” Sam raised an eyebrow, and Dean ducked his head back down, slightly embarrassed at his choice of wording.  
  
  
“His aura!” And he wasn’t even sure he actually believed in that crap. “Or something. I dunno, Cas just, he makes everything around him feel. . .” Dean shrugged, and looked down at Castiel’s face. Eyes closed, lips parted slightly, a giant gash on his forehead from where he’d hit the corner of the desk. It wasn’t healing. Dean hated that most of all. “I don’t get it.”  
  
  
“Well, you said Lucifer kissed him,” Bobby spoke up for the first time since they’d got here, when he’d stared at Cas completely dumbfounded and said, “I got no idea.”  
  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. “I’ve kissed plenty of people and never gotten this reaction.”  
  
  
A smirk played on Sam’s lips. “Well, maybe you’re doing it wrong.”  
  
  
“I’m just saying,” Bobby continued before Dean could respond to his brother, “Lucifer kissed him. Not you, Dean. The devil. God knows what else he’s got up that sleeve of his. Well, maybe not God.”  
  
  
“I think we’ve already established that Lucifer kissed him, Bobby,” Dean snapped. It was replaying in his mind, over and over again. It had been rough. He remembered clearly how Lucifer’s fingers had been in Castiel’s hair, and Dean hated that.  
  
  
Bobby held up a hand in defense. “Well, sorry. Excuse me for trying to work through the situation and come up with a solution.”  
  
  
Dean shrugged half heartedly in response, and Bobby took it as an apology. Or a fuck you. Either way, he went back to his book. Sam ran his hands through his hair, looking more than a little exhausted. Dean just looked back down at Castiel, taking in the closed eyes for the fiftieth fucking time.  
  
  
He’d driven like a bat out of hell, knowing that he had to get to Bobby’s but knowing that they were hours away. It had been too long and Cas had been silent in the backseat, not responding no matter how hard he’d been shaken or yelled at, and Dean had found his eyes sliding towards the mirror more than they should have. Sam had watched him, curious and quiet, and Dean had just kept driving.  
  
  
Nearly eight hours later, and all he could think about was Lucifer’s hand in Castiel’s hair.  _Jesus_.  
  
  
He’d felt envy in the middle of all that dread, Dean knew that. It wasn’t nearly as midlife crisis as Dean had figured, that one time or three times when he’d looked at Cas and thought  _maybe_ , before shaking his head and moving on. Instead, he was just worried. This wasn’t supposed to happen to Cas. Not to a damn angel.  
  
  
Dean sighed and sat down on the bed next to Castiel, his ass nearly coming off the side. “We’re gonna need a bigger bed,” he muttered.  
  
  
“Maybe you should ask for some help?” A new voice suggested, and Dean did fall off the bed then, his ass hitting the floor hard. He let out a yelp, half in pain, half in surprise, and Anna walked into the room without waiting for a response.  
  
  
There was a silence as Dean, Bobby and Sam stared at her, and she rolled her eyes. “Nice welcoming party.”  
  
  
“Cas said that you were dead,” Sam said finally, and Anna just shrugged.  
  
  
“I have connections back home.” She looked down at Castiel, a soft smile tugging at her face and Dean was surprised to see it. He figured she’d lost all of that since being reangeled, but apparently not. He stood up gingerly from the floor and smiled when Anna turned to face him.  
  
  
“Well, nice to see you,” he said, for lack of a better thing to say.  
  
  
“I’m going to assume that this is Anna, instead of waiting for someone to introduce us,” Bobby said after another silence, and yeah, it was awkward.  
  
  
“You’d assume correct, Bobby.” Anna smiled briefly at him, and then turned back to Castiel. “It’s a spell,” she said, wasting no time, “I’ve seen Lucifer use it before.”  
  
  
“What?” Sam exclaimed. “When?”  
  
  
“This isn’t exactly the first war we’ve been through, Sam.” Anna sat down on the bed where Dean had been minutes beforehand, doing it much more gracefully then he ever could, and she set her hand on Castiel’s chest. “It’s playing dirty, but then, that’s Lucifer for you.”  
  
  
Dean shook his head, wanting to get to the point. “Alright, so what does this spell do, besides turn Cas into Sleeping Beauty? Because I fail to see how this is an effective tool, unless he’s gonna start doing it to every angel he encounters.” Although that would make for an interesting Apocalypse. “I mean, I know the guy is charming, but still.”  
  
  
“It renders them useless.” Anna sighed, her hair falling in her face as she looked down at Cas, hand still on his chest, and Dean wished that she would move. “Traps them until they forget.”  
  
  
“Forget?” Sam prompted.  
  
  
“Who they are.” Anna patted Cas on the chest gently, then stood and Dean thought  _finally_. She crossed her arms at her chest and gave Dean a level look. “And then Lucifer has the perfect tool at his command.”  
  
  
Dean felt the air go out of the room, and he looked from Anna to Cas to back to Anna. “You mean be Lucy’s soldier?”  
  
  
“He can rebuild him,” Anna said wryly. “Stronger, faster, better. All with powers and all on Lucifer’s side. Like I said, he’s done it before.” She paused, gave Castiel a quick look, then added, “And it’s not pretty.”  
  
  
Dean felt like he couldn’t breathe, and he was thankful when Sam was the one to ask, “What can we do?”  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Dean wasn’t sure he was comfortable with the plan. Sure, he’d agreed to it, anything to help Castiel after all, and he’d even said, “We’re definitely going to need a bigger bed.” Which was why they were in Bobby’s room instead of the panic room, with salt lines at the door and window and nice pretty drawings being spray painted on the walls, much to Bobby’s annoyance, but they needed protection somehow. Dean wasn’t sure it was going to be enough, and he hoped that no one came knocking.  
  
  
Dream walking, Anna had said like it was the most obvious and normal thing in the goddamn world. And it probably was to angels. God knows Cas had done it to him enough times, but he’d been sure that it didn’t work the other way around. Mostly because Cas didn’t actually sleep. But he was sleeping now.  
  
  
“It will work,” Anna had said, confident as all hell, adding, “You’re going to do it, Dean.”  
  
  
Dean hadn’t exactly had a response to that. Except, “Why can’t you?”  
  
  
And Anna had rolled her eyes like he was wasting everyone’s time with his inane questions, and this was so not the same chick he’d known intimately for that one night only. But she’d kept her voice calm and level as she’d explained that angels can’t walk in other angels dreams, again like it was the most obvious and normal thing in the goddamn world, and added, “and you two are already connected.”  
  
  
“How?” Dean had exclaimed, but even as he’d said it, he’d known how. His hand had instinctively gone to the burn on his shoulder, and he’d flushed. “Never mind.”  
  
  
“So Dean will need to lay down, right?” Sam had asked, sounding completely unaffected, and Dean had thought he was the only sane person in the whole freakin’ room, besides Cas, and he was only exempt because he was unconscious. Bobby hadn’t been much help; mostly he’d been curious as to how the whole thing was going to work out. “Next to Cas?”  
  
  
And that was when Dean had remarked, “We’re definitely going to need a bigger bed.”  
  
  
It had been over nine hours since Castiel had collapsed, and this had Anna looking worried, which worried Dean as he looked at her. He didn’t say anything though, just held onto Castiel’s hand like he’d been instructed, hating the way it felt cold and lifeless in his hand. It wasn’t nearly as weird as he’d thought it might have been. He thought maybe it might even have felt nice, had Castiel’s hand been warm and lifelike. “What am I supposed to do again?”  
  
  
“Bring him back.”  
  
  
“Right. And how am I supposed to do that?”  
  
  
Anna put her palm over their joined hands and smiled somewhat impatiently. “Keep him remembering. Make him fight it.”  
  
  
“Convince him that it’s not the right path to take,” Sam spoke up from the foot of the bed, and Dean rolled his eyes.  
  
  
“Thank you, Doctor Phil.”  
  
  
Sam shook his head in reply.  
  
  
“You’ll know what to do, Dean,” Anna said, reassuringly. “But do it quick. You know Lucifer doesn’t waste any time.” Dean held back the  _duh_  he so badly wanted to say, because he’d seen Lucifer not waste time on a couple of occasions already, and it was shit your pants scary.  
  
  
Anna added, somewhat cautiously, “Just don’t get too caught up in the whole thing.” And Dean couldn’t help but get a little freaked by that.  
  
  
“Wait, what do you mean get caught up?”  
  
  
“It’s okay; we’ll wake you up if there are any problems.” Anna smiled gently, Sam just shrugged, and both responses didn’t make Dean feel any better. He closed his eyes when she told him to though, giving Sam and Bobby one last look, felt her hand tighten over theirs, listened to her speak in a language that wasn’t anything he’d heard before, and he felt warm.  
  
  
It spread over his body quickly, turned from warm to hot to uncomfortable in a matter of seconds, and Dean tried to say something, to open his eyes and tell Anna to stop, but he was stuck there, on fire and he thought  _she’s killed me. She’s somehow managed to kill me and I’m back on that fucking rack._  
  
  
It got better after that.  
  
  
Dean opened his eyes, completely comfortable and not on fire, and thought it was weird that he’d woke up standing. It wasn’t the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him though, so he brushed it off quickly.  
  
  
He was standing in front of a full length mirror, staring back at himself and it struck him that he looked younger. Brighter. Well rested. Hell, he was almost glowing. Dean frowned, and his reflection smiled back.  
  
  
“Okay, that’s creepy.” He turned away from the mirror and found himself next to a river. In the middle of what looked to be a pretty dense forest, with a mirror in the middle of it. Dean shook his head. Dreams.  
  
  
There was a bridge a few feet away, wooden and sturdy looking, so Dean crossed it and found himself on the other side of the river. It felt exactly the same as the other side, except it didn’t have a creepy mirror, and Dean decided he liked this side a hell of a lot better.  
  
  
Dean walked through the forest, taking in the giant trees and rocks and flowers and got bored after a few minutes. It all looked the same to him, and he found it worrying that he hadn’t seen any signs of life, not even a damn ant, and the whole place was eerily quiet. “Cas?” he called, hesitantly, and his voice echoed through the trees in a way that was only possible in dreamland. “Hello?”  
  
  
There was a rustling behind him, and Dean spun around to look, his mouth falling open. He was back at the fucking mirror, his reflection smiling at him like he’d never left, and when he looked behind him, he saw the river and the bridge. “It’s gonna be one of those days,” he sighed, and turned back to the mirror.  
  
  
Castiel regarded him calmly, and didn’t even blink when Dean jumped halfway to the fucking moon in surprise. “I’ve been waiting,” Castiel said, his reflection mouthing the words along just a second too late. He looked younger in the mirror too, Jimmy did anyway, but he wasn’t glowing, and Dean turned from the thing to look at Cas dead on.  
  
  
“Nice digs you got here. Except for that thing.” He cocked a thumb towards the mirror and Cas furrowed his brow like he didn’t quite comprehend.  
  
  
“This is your mind, Dean.”  
  
  
It wasn’t exactly what Dean had been expecting, but he recovered quickly. “Cas, you know you’re dreaming, right?”  
  
  
Castiel shook his head, turning back to the mirror, and he murmured, “I don’t dream.”  
  
  
Dean closed his eyes. Of course it wasn’t going to be that easy.  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
There was a house across the bridge and down the exact same path Dean had taken before, but apparently only Cas knew where it was. He sat down at the table, looking at the cheeseburger that was waiting for him, but found he wasn’t really that hungry. “Why won’t you eat?” Castiel asked, and he sounded irritated.  
  
  
“Maybe you should eat it?” Dean retorted. Cas just looked towards the window, body more tense then he’d seen it in a long time, and Dean sighed. “Okay, so you’re pissy.”  
  
  
“I’m fine.”  
  
  
“Course you are.” Dean took a bite out of the cheeseburger despite his lack of hunger – anything to keep the peace – and found it to be awesome. Which came as no surprise. Dream food was always awesome. Except when wasn’t, and that was usually an indicator that it was a nightmare, not a dream.  
  
  
“You won’t wake up,” Cas said quietly, and Dean stopped mid chew to look at him. He was still staring out the window, hands settled against the bench, and the kitchen looked familiar to Dean but he just couldn’t place it. “I’ve tried.”  
  
  
“To wake me?”  
  
  
“I’ve tried everything, and yet we remain here.” Castiel let his hands drop, and after a moment, turned towards Dean. His face was completely open, something Dean couldn’t remember ever seeing, and he looked agitated, sad and exhausted. He looked human. Dean pushed the half eaten cheeseburger away from him, and Castiel followed the plate with his eyes. “You won’t wake up,” he said again, dejected.  
  
  
Dean rubbed at his face then stood up, giving Castiel a wry grin. “Doesn’t that tell you something?”  
  
  
“No.”  
  
  
It was like talking to a brick wall. “Maybe I’m not the one dreaming here, Cas.”  
  
  
“You have to be asleep to be here,” Castiel snapped, pushing away from the bench completely. He gave Dean a sharp look, and Dean stepped into it.  
  
  
“Okay, good point. I’m asleep, we’ve established that.” Dean breathed deeply, and then held out his hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture. Cas didn’t look anymore calm, so Dean let his hands fall back down to his waist. Definitely pissy. “Cas, do you remember what happened with Lucifer?”  
  
  
“Yes,” Castiel said blandly.  
  
  
“Alright, good. And what happened after you saw Lucifer?” Dean waited a full minute for an answer, but he didn’t get one. Castiel just stood there, alternating his gaze between Dean’s face and the floor, his hands clenching back and forth. He looked lost, and it was concerning, to say the least. “You collapsed, Cas. And then I decided that going walkabout in your mind was apparently the best idea in the whole damn world, and we ended up here. Can we move on now?”  
  
  
Castiel just shook his head. “Lucifer intended to take Sam as a vessel.”  
  
  
Dean blinked. Again, unexpected. And not exactly something he wanted to hear. “Cas-”  
  
  
“But he didn’t.” He walked over to the window again, staring out until Dean got sick of the whole thing and went and closed the curtains. Castiel didn’t even notice; he kept on staring at the fabric like he could see through it, when all Dean could see was tacky green curtains with frogs all over. “Another course to be taken, perhaps,” Castiel murmured.  
  
  
Dean jumped on it immediately. “Yes! That’s right, Cas, he decided to fight dirty instead.”  
  
  
Castiel was out the door before Dean could even finish his sentence. He squeezed his eyes shut, mouthed  _why me?_  to the ceiling, then went after Castiel.  
  
  
He found him sitting on a bed in a bedroom that was comfortable, lived in, with a pair of jeans slung over the back of a chair and a walk in wardrobe that was a mess. Dean wondered if it belonged to Jimmy, then realized it didn’t really matter.  
  
  
Castiel didn’t look up when Dean sat down next to him, so close that their legs were touching; he just kept looking down at his hands. They sat quietly for a while, and it was mostly because Dean wasn’t sure what to say next. He had no idea how to convince Cas of the situation. Damn angels could be stubborn.  
  
  
He rubbed his hands together for something to do, then smiled brightly when Castiel looked at him, shocked. “I thought I was alone,” he said.  
  
  
“What, just now?” Dean frowned. “I’ve been here a while, Cas.”  
  
  
Cas nodded slowly, his gaze returning to his hands. “You can’t stay here forever.”  
  
  
“Neither can you.” Dean swung his legs, waiting for a response. He didn’t know why he bothered, Cas stayed typically silent. “You remember Lucifer kissing you?”  
  
  
“He kissed you,” was Castiel’s response. He looked completely gutted, his lips drawn together tight and his back hunched over, and Dean was taken aback. “He touched you.”  
  
  
“No.”  
  
  
“He hurt you, Dean.” Cas bowed his head. “I couldn’t protect you.”  
  
  
Dean let out a nervous laugh. “Cas, man, that’s not how it happened.” He could picture the kiss in his mind, hazy but there, and he remembered the feeling that came with it. Dread. Jealousy. Dean had been jealous, he was sure of it. Looking at Castiel now, he must have been jealous.  
  
  
“Isn’t it?” Castiel raised his head swiftly, their eyes connecting for the first time in what felt like hours, but had only been a few minutes. “Then what did happen?”  
  
  
Dean tried to explain, he did. He opened his mouth and everything, but the words just wouldn’t come out. He stared at Castiel, startled, as he realized he couldn’t remember. Maybe that’s what Anna had meant when she’d said –  
  
  
She had said something.  
  
  
Castiel smiled slightly, as if it was supposed to reassure him, and Dean had to look away. He stood up and left the room; left Castiel sitting there on his own.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Dean sat on the bridge, his shoes and socks next to him and his feet over the side and in the water. He figured he didn’t have to worry about things biting at his feet, seeing that there didn’t seem to be anything alive in this damn place, not even a damn ant. It was worrying.  
  
  
He remembered Hell. He remembered Cas, and Sam and Bobby, and Lucifer too. But there was red hair, and black hair, and faces that he couldn’t place, and Dean was scared that he was losing his mind. And losing it quick. He was sure there had been a face and a name to go alongside that red hair a few minutes ago, when he had sat down to put his feet in the water.  
  
  
He was pretty sure that had only been a few minutes ago. “Jesus,” he said to himself. “Jesus Christ.” A shadow fell over him, and Dean didn’t have to look up to see why. He remembered that much.  
  
  
“How long have you been here for?”  
  
  
Dean shrugged, and gestured for Castiel to sit down. He remained standing. “Here on the bridge, or here in the forest?”  
  
  
Castiel blinked. “I’ve been waiting,” was his response. Dean squinted into the distance, pretty sure he’d heard that before.  
  
  
“You must have been waiting in the wrong place, because I was waiting here.” He pulled his feet out of the water, not waiting for them to drip dry before he stood up awkwardly to face Castiel. “Sounds like a failure to communicate to me.”  
  
  
Castiel grabbed his arm, tight and out of nowhere, and it took Dean by surprise. He said, “You can’t stay here.”  
  
  
Dean laughed. “I don’t think I have a choice.” He put his hand over Castiel’s, curled his fingers around it and pulled gently until his arm was free. His hand lingered on Castiel’s for a moment though, and it was cold and limp in his grasp. He let go like he’d been burned, and Cas regarded him curiously. “Since when are you so cold?”  
  
  
“You don’t touch me often,” Castiel observed, and Dean wondered why that was exactly, but he nodded anyway.  
  
  
“Okay then.” He rubbed his hands together, fingers still tingling slightly, and found it didn’t help much. Castiel was looking around them, eyes wide as he took in the area, and his gaze fixated on something in the distance.  
  
  
“I think there is a house over there,” he said, pointing at a group of trees.  
  
  
Dean doubted it. “You wanna go check it out, be my guest. I’m comfortable right here.”  
  
  
Castiel sighed. “You’re not being helpful.”  
  
  
“Helpful at what?”  
  
  
“Finding out why we are here.” Castiel was walking before Dean knew it, towards the so called house, and he was doing so swiftly. Dean looked at his shoes and socks, he looked at the water beneath him, and then he turned and looked back at Cas. Dean watched his retreating form for a while, until he struggled to make sense of what he was looking at, and then he started to run.  
  
  
“Cas, hey! Wait! Where are you going?”  
  
  
It wasn’t the best idea, running through the forest with no shoes on, and he grimaced as sharp things stuck into his feet, but Castiel was faster than he looked, and he wasn’t stopping. “Cas!” Dean called again, and Castiel stopped. Tilted his head to the side like he was listening, but didn’t turn. Dean huffed out a breath and pushed himself forward, not bothering to speak again. Castiel had stopped, at least.  
  
  
He reached him quickly after that, heart pounding loudly in his chest, and took a moment to catch his breath before slapping a hand down on Castiel’s shoulder.  
  
  
Cas spun around like he’d been zapped, eyes wild and body tense. He smacked Dean’s hand away and glared at him. “Whoa, okay.” Dean took a step back on instinct, giving Castiel a calm smile. It dropped when Castiel continue to glare at him. “What?”  
  
  
“Who are you?”  
  
  
Dean swallowed harshly, and found it didn’t really help. “D-Dean,” he stammered. “I’m Dean.”  
  
  
Castiel repeated it a few times, letting the word roll off his tongue like he was testing it, and then he shook his head, and said it once more. “I don’t-” He looked up, panic clear on his face, and whispered, “And myself?”  
  
  
It took him a minute, but Dean was able to give an answer. Still, his voice shook. “Castiel.”  
  
  
Castiel didn’t repeat it this time, didn’t show any signs of recognizing it at all, and it felt wrong. The whole damn thing felt wrong, Castiel looking and acting like that being at the top of the list of wrongness. “Am I special?” He asked it so quietly that it took Dean a few seconds to process the words, and even then, he stood there staring dumbly, because he was sure Cas  _was_  special, he knew he was, he just couldn’t figure out how. “I asked you a question,” Castiel hissed, and he was shaking.  
  
  
His whole body was trembling and Dean watched it go, watched his hands shake, and he didn’t know what to do. So he did the first thing he could think of, the only thing he could think of; he grabbed Castiel by his sleeve and pulled him forward. Their lips met, brushing against each other slightly before Castiel drew him closer and kissed him like it wasn’t their first time. And maybe it wasn’t. It felt comfortable enough, whiskers scratching at his chin, Castiel’s breath coming out of his nose in short bursts, and Dean moaned, his hands finding thick hair and staying there. He thought  _this could be it; this could be the way to –_  
  
  
But when Castiel’s hand found his cheek, Dean realized he couldn’t care less that he didn’t know how to finish that thought. He just wanted to stay.  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
He’d opened his eyes on a bridge, unsure of how he’d gotten there. Unsure of a lot of things, actually. He wasn’t wearing any shoes, which might have been odd since it was apparently cool enough to be wearing a jacket. He was sure he’d been walking, and the scratches on his feet seemed to agree with that thought. He wasn’t alone.  
  
  
The other guy was looking at him with mild curiosity, his eyes bright and blue, and he was beautiful. Then the other guy shrugged, turning those blue eyes away and started down the path.  
  
  
He almost followed him, but didn’t. Why, he had no idea. But he started to walk in the opposite direction to Blue Eyes, feeling like this was the right way to go, He found a mirror, not far from the bridge, and his reflection was dull, looking back with tired eyes, and he thought okay.  
  
  
He stood there, looking at the mirror and wondering why and how and exactly who.   
  
  
He felt lost. He felt lonely, and Blue Eyes joined him in the reflection then, apparently having changed his mind, shoulders brushing lightly, and he felt safe.  
  
  
“You look familiar,” Blue Eyes said, his reflection almost mouthing the words along correctly. “Who are you?”  
  
  
He shrugged. “I think we’ve been here before though.” He paused. “I think, I think I should be doing something.”  
  
  
Blue Eyes squinted at his reflection. “What?” he asked.  
  
  
He shrugged again, and Blue Eyes turned from the mirror to look at him straight on. “Until you think of it, perhaps you should stay?”  
  
  
He nodded. It sounded like the best idea he’d heard in a long time. He looked at Blue Eyes and he had to grin. “Sure.”  
  
  
Blue Eyes smiled back, timid, and Dean was pulled from the dream then, and it  _hurt_.  
  



End file.
